


Flower Boy Meets Dumb Colorblind Man

by connormckinley



Series: falsettos spur of the moment stories [4]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 80's, Divorce, F/F, F/M, Lmao what, M/M, Post-Divorce, as far as we know, its the eighties oooo, jason aint a thang, jason aint here, nancy reagan - Freeform, non modern, sorry iveb een on hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connormckinley/pseuds/connormckinley
Summary: Whizzer never really thought of himself as a twenty-five-year-old man who makes flower bouquets and sells flowers for a living after completing his horticulture major in college. Once he has gotten into the swing with his small business tucked on the corner of a busy New York City street, a man walks in, and changes everything about Whizzer’s life.





	1. Lavender Roses

_ Lavender Roses are a symbol of love at first sight. _

 

Whizzer Brown hadn’t really thought about himself in the future after college. The routine sleeping around and then still acing his horticulture exams wasn’t quite ‘routine’ anymore. Waking up at 5:30 to get his breakfast, drink possibly two cups of coffee, pick out his outfit, and finally, fix his hair. That was the most important part. This was his routine as a single man in New York City, about twenty-five years old, and he was only with it.

 

Whizzer, as a man who always had an eye for fashion, wanted to look sharp, smart, and on top of things. He wanted to look like a man who meant business, but also wouldn’t mind blowing you in the bathroom. With his precise haircut where he could still style it in the front, just how he liked, he always liked to look sharp. Always. The ironing of the polo shirts was another one of his special talents. He always made sure his outfits were coordinated, his button-down tucked into his tight-fitting khakis, and his socks always matched, except on the weekends.

 

He dressed to impress on five out of seven of the days of the week, and on the other two he was relaxing in his flower shop, reading a book and drinking his tea, the usual customers coming through and buying certain flowers, but nothing ever happened on the weekends, mostly. Maybe one special event, but mostly nothing ever happened in Whizzer’s small flower shop on the corner of 2nd Street and E 6th Street. 

 

It was a good spot for him, financially. And his business was on a busy corner with people coming in and out, buying bouquets, or asking for catering for weddings, or such things as this. And even though he was happy and content with his horticulture major and his photography minor, his small apartment above his small shop, taking photos of his plants and his friends who owned a bakery a block away, and hanging out with his cat, he wasn’t quite happy.

 

Sure, Whizzer seemed like he had it all. A good life, went to college, has steady rent and steady income, but he wanted a man. Sure, it sounded weird, but he wanted a man who could keep up with him, a man who would treat him like he deserved. Sure, his friends had called him needy, and selfish at most, but he believed that he deserved a lot better than the scum that had so recently gone to college with him.

 

He wanted a man who wasn’t trashy, who was more, well, classy. He wanted a man who could seduce but cook. He dreamed of an amazing man, and he hoped his dream wasn’t too far off from reality, but then he sort of remembered that he didn’t really have that luxury, or he wouldn’t be able to find that in a man. But hey, he could try, right?

 

The day started out normal enough, the normal customers and the daily routine was mostly the same. George came in to pick up his bi-monthly rose for his wife, what an amazing couple they were, he always left generous tips, and Whizzer always made sure to find a good rose in the stack for him. He got paid, George got the rose, that’s all he cared about.

 

Whizzer had brewed a pot of coffee for himself to make it through the first few early hours of sitting behind the counter until Cordelia delivered him his paper and a bagel, on special days she would bring him strawberry cream cheese, his favorite. 

 

Cordelia was such a nice girl to Whizzer. The two had met in college in photography class, right before she had switched to a culinary education. They still had stayed friends, and even had rented out an apartment together for the remainder of their college career. Even though most people that had visited them and figured they were together, or brother and sister.

 

Both were incorrect, though, because of the fact that Cordelia was very much gay, as far as Whizzer knew, and Whizzer believed that he was the same. To him, the whole idea of being with a girl was such a bore, and men were so much more fascinating and maybe even vicious in this sense.

 

It was fun to be with men in college, from Whizzer’s perspective. Not having to care about anything or any guy to be attached towards, and allowed to come and go as he pleased. So why was it suddenly so hard to hook up with guys after college? He figured that all the closet cases he had given blowjobs during college parties were most likely married, or in a strenuous relationship with a wife, or a woman they just ‘loved’ so much. It was sort of depressing to watch, for the most part. To see the men who could have otherwise been happy, or been free in their lifestyle, had cut themselves off and now were stuck in a position they couldn’t really get out of.

 

Whizzer liked being out. Sure, it was the eighties, and he would get nasty looks anytime he mentioned the fact that he, was in fact, gay. At least he had Cordelia to cheer him up most days and remind him that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was, and people would soon become more understanding.

 

He really hoped that she was right.

 

Whizzer would continue throughout his day, his cold coffee in his hand, and cutting the stray leaves and thorns off of the flowers to make them even and less messy, and waiting for anyone, someone to come in the flower shop.

 

That’s when a man, looking flustered as ever, walked into Whizzer’s flower shop on the corner with a drenched coat. That’s when Whizzer realized it had been raining, and that’s when Whizzer took time to look over the man who had just ‘graced’ his presence. 

 

He looked so tired, for starters. His wet mop of brown hair fell in his face, curling just a little, but not enough to tangle that badly. He had blue eyes that glared at Whizzer harder than they should have, and wrinkles around his mouth and his eyes. It made Whizzer frown when he did finally set his small bag down and he came up to the desk, where Whizzer met him.

 

It didn’t help that his name was so stereotypical, and  _ ugly.  _

 

_ Marvin Richards  _ was the worst name he had ever heard, and on top of that? It was just a bore. Just like his outfits, which did not go together well at all. 

 

Marvin, the man finally introduced himself as that, wore an old tattered trench coat, khakis, and a shirt that clashed with his tie. Whizzer honestly didn’t know if it was a joke or not, because he looked really awful in Whizzer’s opinion.

 

Yet he followed the script he had set for himself such a long time ago, and plastered on a fake grin, which contrasted against Marvin’s hard glare.

 

“Good afternoon, sir. How can I assist you today?” Whizzer asked the man, while he leaned against the counter, still grimacing at the mess that was Marvin’s outfit.

 

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy,” Marvin continued now, biting his lip, a worried tic that Whizzer would learn later, “But can you arrange some flowers for my wife when I say I’m going to divorce her?”

 

Whizzer just stared, never having to answer that question, now that he thought about all of his assignment. Sure, he had hard tasks before, but this was fucking weird.

 

And why now?

 

Instead of saying no, he wrote down the order, nodding.

 

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Whizzer joked now, looking up at an angry man who didn’t look like he was having it right now. 

 

At least right now, everything was okay.

 

At least for right now.

 


	2. Angelica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angelica flower stands for inspiration.

“Yellow carnations.” Whizzer nodded, over the phone with Cordelia.  
 ****

“Yellow carnations?” Cordelia whined, not really interested in spending her break talking to Whizzer about the angry man who wanted a divorce bouquet for his soon-to-be ex-wife. 

 

Cordelia had problems of her own, now. Keeping up with her bakery, which had gone up and running in a good way, and had been making good business with her scones, crepes, and muffins, which Whizzer could agree that they were all to die for. 

 

Cordelia lived a simple enough life, talking to Whizzer almost every day, making baked goods for the rest of the day, and serving customers, or making pots of coffee to share. It was almost like heaven. 

 

On top of that, how could Cordelia forget that cute girl who always came to the bakery in the morning, wearing scrubs and always asking for the double shot of espresso at her job? 

 

Sure, the woman had first come in sporadically enough, but Cordelia started to notice that the woman would frequent the shop when Cordelia was behind the register. It wasn’t until the one day their encounter was a little less like the ones before.

 

Cordelia had finally introduced herself as, well, Cordelia, and they had hit things off right away. Charlotte was her name, and she was a doctor at some hospital on the outskirts of the city they called home. Charlotte was daring with her word choices, and she was always seemingly playing and flirting with Cordelia. And she didn’t mind.

 

Here she was now, sitting with her legs crossed on her break, which was conveniently aligned with Whizzer’s, and they usually got to talk on the phone during the twenty-five minutes of freedom. This time they were talking about how the hell to make a ‘divorce bouquet’. Who the hell even thought that was a good idea? Whizzer and Cordelia understood that sure, maybe they wanted to show some apologies for, well, being such an awful partner, but they didn’t understand what was so intriguing about giving said ex a bouquet of flowers.

 

“So, if you’re so smart, what’s the deal with the yellow carnations?” Cordelia sneered over the phone, crossing her arms, raising her eyebrow as if Whizzer was right in front of her.

 

  
“We agree, then. You know nothing about flowers. Right?” Whizzer nodded, finishing his sentence. “Well, the yellow carnations usually mean  _ rejection _ . Let’s keep this between us, but I really believe that this Marvin character isn’t really all for the lady in his life, from what I concluded. So we’ll go with some yellow carnations, and maybe a couple other flowers to fix it up, but they all will have meanings.”

 

“You know, some florists just put flowers together that look pretty, they don’t stick the ones together that you would write poems about, you dumbass.”

 

“You think I’m stupid? Why do you think my shop is doing better than yours?” Whizzer snapped over the phone, the playful tone of his voice still lingering as he could hear her huff.

 

“At least I have one frequent customer, Whizzer!”

 

“She frequents because she likes seeing you.”

 

“As if I didn’t know that.” Cordelia smiled, checking the clock to see their break was almost up. “So, spit it out. What other flowers are you using?”

 

“Next, cyclamen. Usually means a goodbye or some sort of resignation.”

 

“I’m listening. Two more?”

 

“Hyacinths. Pretty, easy on the eyes. Not the purples, the yellows. Usually means jealousy. And then last, but not least, the yellow rose. Usually a decrease of love.” Whizzer replied, feeling satisfied with his choices.

 

“Sure, whatever. I wouldn’t know.” Cordelia chuckled. “Do you think he will really care about it at all?” She added, leaning against the counter top with a smirk. “Like, honestly. Let’s be realistic.” 

 

Whizzer groaned over the phone, rolling his eyes with a whine. “He’ll care when I flirt.” 

 

“He’ll care when you stop being so full of yourself, Whizzer.”

 

The deal was happening, as he began to order in flowers and obtain some from the back of his shop. It had only been a mere hour since the man had graced his presence, 

 

_____

 

Whizzer had actually constructed the flower bouquet quite nicely, with all aforementioned flowers. He even made sure to stick a small piece of paper on the front of the bouquet with his number on it. Maybe, just maybe, the tense man who had come in his flower shop demanding a divorce bouquet needed some unwinding.

 

Marvin finally barged in the next day. “So do you have bouquet yet?”

 

Whizzer raised an eyebrow as he laughed. “Yes, of course.” He was still the same tense, angry man who had come in. He still didn’t mind looking at his face, which seemed like a poker-face, but also seemed soft underneath.

 

“Thanks.” Was all Marvin replied with, slowly taking the bouquet from Whizzer’s hands, giving him the money that was needed. Whizzer watched when Marvin took the number off of the bouquet and looked at it when he raised his eye at Whizzer.

 

“So what is this?” Marvin snapped, looking at the number that was written on the small sheet of paper. Also, “CALL ME!!” was written - but not in a flirty way, just in an exclamatory sentence. “Oh, so you think since I’m divorcing my wife, that I’ll go out with someone like you? Do you even  _ know  _ if I’m gay? Who the hell do you think I am?” Marvin’s glare hardened.

 

“Listen, it was just an invitation, I didn’t mean it like-”

 

“Like what,  _ Whizzer? _ ” Marvin snapped back.

 

“Now I see why you have to get flowers to divorce your wife, to cushion the fall.”

 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

 

“ _ Anything?  _ Nothing at all? You know what, Marvin? You can do whatever the hell you want with my number, just get the hell out of my shop.” Whizzer crossed his arms, coming out from behind the counter.

 

It wasn’t the move Whizzer wanted to make, but he knew it was probably the smarter decision.

 

Marvin had other plans, moving towards Whizzer with a laugh. “So are you free tonight?”

 

Whizzer was taken off guard. “Free? I thought you sort of hated everyone?”

 

“Yes, but you’ve got an  _ ass, _ ” Marvin smirked.

 

“That doesn’t mean-” Whizzer trailed off, his face quickly heating up, feeling like the situation was worsening with every minute. “I wasn’t kidding when I said get the hell out of my shop.” 

 

With that, Marvin rolled his eyes and walked out the doors with the flowers that screamed ‘fuck you’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this! I had this chapter just lying around so I finished it quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated!!!! thank you so much for your support!!


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